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And for a brief moment in time, I’m reminded that this girl has a past. She was here tonight for a reason. Somewhere just beyond our Velvet Room make out session is a woman with a life and friends, maybe even a boyfriend. She’s a woman with hopes and dreams.
But I operate on the truths that she’s told me. She wants to go back to my place. She wants to spend time with me. Whatever happens after tonight, I’ll deal with it as it comes. Because for right now, for one night, I’ll have the most beautiful woman in the world in my arms.
Nothing else matters.
CHASTITY
Isee flickers of Jason with every step that I take, intermixed with Rooster’s smiling face. The little voice inside my head keeps screaming at me to turn back, to stop before I do something that I’ll regret. But there’s another little voice spurred on by the alcohol that says keep going, be with a man that wants to be with you.
Rooster touches me in ways that I’ve only dreamed of Jason touching me. He is happy to leave a lazy hand on my leg while we talk and wrap his arms around me when we kiss. Jason didn’t even like to make out with me all that much. He said that kissing shouldn’t be so sloppy and wet.
I let Rooster walk me to his car and drive me home without listening to the screaming voice once. Jason’s face gets further and further away as Rooster drives; it’s like I leave him behind at Stallions with my morals and my dignity.
But the truth is, for once in my life, I’m doing the wild thing. I’m doing the thing Blake would do. I’m letting a man sweep me off my feet and have his way with me.
Yeah, but what about Jason? The little voice asks.
There is no ring on my finger, only a promise to wed. There is no physical representation of our romance, just a few words exchanged over dinner. I have a wedding dress in my closet at home—simple, elegant, perfect to marry a youth pastor who counsels his kids daily about the evils of dressing provocatively. I have a hundred people arriving in the next two weeks to watch us stand before them and proclaim our love. But I don’t have any reassurance that things between us will get better.
Everything happens for a reason,I tell the little voice. If I’d broken things off with Jason all those years ago, I never would have wound up at Stallions. I wouldn’t have met Rooster and we wouldn’t be giggling and singing along to the radio as we drive back to his place. I would have a touch less guilt for my actions, but the vodka does a decent job smoothing that over.
“This is it,” he announces as he pulls into the driveway of a small cottage. “It isn’t much, but it’s mine.”
In the moonlight, it twinkles like a scene straight out of a Disney movie. The lawn is well-manicured and bushes press against the railing of the front porch. Flowers line the garden beds on either side of the walkway, swaying gently in the evening breeze. “It’s beautiful, Rooster.”
He shuts off his car and gives me a look. “Call me Robert,” he whispers in the newly arrived silence.
I grab the handle of my door and pry it open. “Robert.” His name sounds just right on my tongue, like a life preserver sent out to rescue me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
Rooster takes me to the entrance and unlocks the door, opening it wide for me to enter. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got water, soda, some Gatorade, a few beers if that’s your preference,” he grins as we walk inside. “Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you.”
I turn to face him and see his dark outline that tells me where he is. Before I lose all my nerve, I have to do this. “I just want you, Robert.” Saying his name gets easier with every pronouncement.
He drops his keys in the bowl by the front door and lunges forward toward me. A stream of laughter waterfalls from my lips as he wraps his arms around my waist and hoists me up. “You have me, Chastity, by the balls, even. I’m your genie, honey, so make a wish.”
I can’t wish for the guilt to dissipate or for my fiancé to disappear. So I wish for him to take it easy on me. I’m thankful for the darkness now, as it clouds his vision. He can’t see the shame in my eyes or the fear of turning him off. “I’ve never donethisbefore,” I whisper.
Rooster doesn’t mind though. His grip on me tightens and he carries me through the house. “I had a feeling,” he chuckles when I rest my head on his shoulder. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of you, Chastity.”
His bedroom has a large window that opens to the backyard. Moonlight cuts through the darkness and brightens the room. “We’ll only go as far as you allow,” he whispers as he lays me down on the bed.
In the darkness, I can forget about all of my obligations. I let his lips caress my neck and revel in the pleasure of him gently nipping at my nape. Nobody can see me fumble to touch him, hands cresting across muscles and skin until I’ve made a map with my touch.
Rooster lays on top of me and slowly thrusts his hips against mine, the front of his jeans pressing against a sensitive spot just below my waist. As his lips find every bit of open skin they can, I feel my body flushing with heat and desire. His fingertips slip beneath the hem of my dress and massage my hip bone. Every manipulation of his tongue and touch makes me moan a little louder.
When his fingers go farther, I feel the nails slide against my skin as he makes his trek toward my breasts. The first time his thumb skates over my bra, I shiver with excitement. I am hot, but he gives me the chills. “Robert,” I moan into the darkness.
“Chastity,” he moans back.
I thought that his fingers grazing the sensitive skin of my breast was delicious, but when his touch sinks lower, I’m treated to a new experience. His thick digits race across the front of my panties and I sharply intake air at the sensation. I can feel his lips curl into a smile against my chest as he kisses his way to the deep V of my borrowed dress.
I’m not the kind of girl that touches myself. Not because I was raised to believe it was dirty or because I can’t imagine myself doing that sort of thing, but simply because I’ve tried and failed to give myself an orgasm before. After you do something a dozen times and never reach climax, it dissuades you from trying again.
I’m about to tell Rooster that his ministrations aren’t necessary, that he’s just going to give himself carpal tunnel trying to mash my button, but then his fingers dip past my panties and stroke my wetness. The words catch in my throat as I dig my nails into his shirt, grasping and pulling as if to make him come closer.
“You are so responsive to my touch,” he whispers in my ear. “Do you like it when I do this to you?” Rooster presses a finger against my entrance and lets the tip slip inside. I feel as though I’m gasping for air as he strokes me from within.
My jaw hangs open trying to form a response to his question, but I can’t make words dance off my tongue. I am stricken into silence as he slips another finger inside of me, using two digits to wring the pleasure from my body now.
